Archive of Our Own ^beta

When a person was traveling alone in the deepest part of the Enchanted Forest, there were a number of activities that were widely recognized as very foolish. Things such as following the twinkling lights off the path, or picking all the mushrooms in the center of the grove of tall trees, or eating a gumdrop off the windowsill of a gingerbread house.

They really ought to include making eye contact with any suspicious sort of person waiting nonchalantly at a crossroads.

Jensen threw his gaze resolutely to the ground and tried to shuffle backwards without being seen.

"Young sir, young sir!" a voice croaked. "A moment of your time, if you please!"

Jensen stopped. In his peripheral vision, he could see the head poking out from the vaguely person-shaped heap of rags. He knew he shouldn't turn around, he knew he shouldn't, but the common courtesy his mother had drilled into his head reared up imperiously.

The figure had sat up, for a certain value of up, and could now be determined to be a stooped elderly woman -- well, all right. Probably the most correct word to describe her would be 'crone.'

"Come closer, young sir," the crone said, and Jensen walked hesitantly forward, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword. "That's it, that's it, don't be shy, boy."

"How are you today, madam," he said politely.

"A little hungry, my boy, a little hungry," she said, peering up at him from narrowed dark eyes. "Might you have some food to share with a pitiful old woman?"

There was only one correct response to that.

"I only have bread and cheese in my bag, but I would be honored to share it with you."

The crone's face twisted and it took Jensen a moment to realize she was smiling. His leg was starting to ache, so he sat down next to her and they ate lunch together. Jensen tried not to thinking about the wide array of terrible things that might await him after sharing a meal with a wi -- a crone.

"Thank you, young sir," the crone said. "For your generosity and kindness to a poor old woman, I shall bestow upon you a reward."

"Oh," said Jensen, trying to think up an excuse. There was usually all sorts of baggage attached to those kinds of things. "Uh --"

"In the palace of the next kingdom," the crone said, her voice suddenly getting less hoarse as she warmed to her tale, "there is a king. The king has a daughter, the Princess Adelaide, and the princess has eleven visiting friends. The princesses are very lovely and very kind, but they are under a terrible curse. Every full moon night these twelve princesses go to their beds, but in the morning it is as through they never slept a wink! They are plagued by drooping eyelids and weary limbs, and the bottoms of their slippers are scuffed and worn. It is a great mystery within the kingdom and a great sadness, too, and to the one who can lift the curse, the king has offered his daughter's hand in m --"

"That's where you've lost me, I'm afraid," Jensen said.

There was a pause.

"Eh?" the crone said.

"Princesses," Jensen repeated helpfully. "I'm not particularly interested in them."

The crone glared at him and then started digging through her robes, muttering to herself the whole time. Eventually she pulled out a piece of notepaper which she squinted at for a moment, before scrambling in her rags again and pulling out a pair of spectacles. She put them on and read the note in her hand. Jensen waited nervously.

When she looked up again, her eyes were a lot sharper and a lot bluer. Jensen blinked in surprise. "You're definitely the one I was waiting for," she said suspiciously. "You're right on time and everything."

"Uh," Jensen said. "On time for what?"

The crone ignored him. "Hmm," she said. "And you're sure you're not interested in princesses? Not even a smidge?"

"No. I mean, I'm sure. Sorry."

"Not even for half a kingdom?"

"Still no."

"Huh." The crone straightened up. Jensen was surprised to realize that at her full height she was almost as tall as he was. When she spoke, there wasn't even a hint of a rasp or a cackle in her voice. "Well, " she said. "I suppose you might as well come back to mine for a cup of tea, then. Would you mind giving me a hand with the groceries?"

~~~

The crone, it turned out, lived in a rather normal looking bungalow a short walk from the crossroads. She put the kettle on the stove, introduced herself as "Madge," and inspected Jensen carefully.

"So," she said at last. "You're a soldier.

Jensen was still wearing his sword and his military coat, so he wasn't exactly in a position to disagree. Still: "I was a soldier," he said.

Her gaze flicked unerringly to his leg. He shrugged, discomfited.

"The thing is, Jensen," she said, as she poured the tea and offered him a cookie from a tin. "I have very specific instructions regarding you.

Jensen stiffened warily. "What do you mean, instructions? Instructions from who?"

"From who," she scoffed. "From the universe, of course. It made me aware of your imminent arrival and -- ta-da! Here you are."

"Here I am," he repeated.

"You see," she went on, "it would be a great favor to me personally if you would go out and give this lifting-the-curse thing a try. I would be inclined to give you a reward, a great reward." She was sinking back into her crone-like patter.

Jensen took a sip of tea to cover his pause. The offer was not one to be taken lightly, not least because he had just shared the last of his food with someone who, as it turned out, had a very well-stocked cupboard. Moreover, there were not a lot of job opportunities for an injured veteran with no other readily identifiable skills. If Jensen still hoped to one day settle down and open a small bookshop and lending library where he could live out his days in peace and quiet, he'd need some substantial financial support to do it.

"I'm not sure what you expect me to do," he said at last.

The crone smiled. "Don't worry, my boy," she said. "I'll tell you everything you need to know."

~~~

Which was how, against his better judgment, Jensen came to be dressed in his uniform and standing stiffly behind a potted plant on the perimeter of the Great Hall, trying to remain inconspicuous.

There were indeed twelve princesses there. They were not technically all daughters of kings, but the term for the twelve had been struck and most people seemed to refer to them in this way. They were all different shapes and sizes and colors, yet they moved and spoke and smiled with an elegance and a grace that made Jensen's heart clench a little in his chest. All totaled, it was more royalty than Jensen had seen over the course of his entire life. He wasn't just out of his depth in the palace; he had been tossed into a yawning bottomless whirlpool and he had no idea if his feet would ever touch dry land again.

It was clear that the majority of people in the room who were not princesses (or servants -- there seemed to be an awful lot of people standing around with platters of food and glasses of wine) were at the palace to attempt to lift the curse. They were occupying themselves by fawning over the princesses, toasting the king, eyeing one another with speculation, and eating platefuls of salmon pâté.

It was still two nights to the full moon. Jensen wished he hadn't come so early.

"Are you pretending to be a ficus?" a voice said from behind him. "Because if so, you're doing a pretty decent job of it. You could use a few more leafy bits, though, to help you blend."

Jensen turned around and blinked. The speaker was grinning at him, and Jensen was so taken aback by the brightness of the smile directed at him that it took him a moment to remember how to form words.

"I wasn't pretending to be a ficus," he said at last. "I was avoiding dancing."

"Oh, let me guess. You're a terrible dancer?" the courtier said, still smiling. Now that Jensen was looking closely, he realized the courtier was wearing the most ghastly shade of pink he'd ever seen. It probably caused other, more demure shades of pink to throw themselves off cliffs in fits of despair.

"No," Jensen said, which was true. He'd never danced with anyone before and had no idea about his level of skill.

"Hmm," the courtier said.

"Ackles," Jensen said quickly, because he was fairly sure the gleam in the courtier's eye bespoke imminent impromptu waltz lessons.

"Jared Padalecki, at your service," the courtier replied. "Please tell me your entire regiment is made up of ficus plants."

Jensen was finding it harder and harder to suppress his smile. "You dare to question my great skill for imitating local flora and fauna?"

"Flora and fauna?" Padalecki said, delighted. "I insist on a demonstration. Can you do an otter?"

"Not without due cause," Jensen said. "Besides, it might cause a riot in the Great Hall."

"Ah, no, they've seen far worse than an otter."

This made Jensen pause, and he sobered. "I heard about the princesses," he said.

Something flickered across Padalecki's face. Then: "Who hasn't?" he said lightly.

~~~

Some of the high-ranking potential curse-breakers were given rooms at the palace, though others had to find lodgings in the town. Despite Jensen being a nobody from Nowheresville, albeit in a uniform, the king had granted him a chamber on the strength of a letter of introduction Madge had given him. There had been a lot of narrowed, considering eyes turned in Jensen's direction following the king's decision.

Jensen was grateful for it, as he knew his leg would be a throbbing wreck if he had to make the hike up the hill to the palace every day.

That morning, the curse-breakers congregated in the Great Hall after a late breakfast and then adjourned into the gardens to take advantage of the warm spring air. Some of the princesses joined them; they stood out like jewels in their brightly colored dresses.

Jensen followed the group a little reluctantly. He didn't want to draw further attention to himself so he didn't dare escape the festivities altogether. He looked for Padalecki, though he tried to convince himself he wasn't, but his tall, shaggy-haired figure was nowhere in sight. In the end, Jensen simply sat on a stone bench in the sun with the slim book on map-making he'd found in the palace library, and watched the revelers from a distance.

There was an afternoon badminton tournament, which Jensen successfully evaded, and then a short rest before that evening's formal feast. The grey stone corridors were quiet and cool with so many of the guests tucked up in their rooms, and Jensen was able to walk without interruption all the way to the hall that led to the princesses' suites. It was identifiable as such not only by the deep purple banners hanging on the wall, decorated with an exquisitely stitched royal crest, but also by the two guards standing carefully at attention at the arched entrance.

There was still another full night and day before the princesses would sweep down this hallway and vanish behind the bedroom doors to suffer who-knew-what during the long night of the full moon. Jensen glanced at the guards and forced his lips into a smile that he hoped was not as suspicious as it felt and kept walking.

He was out of sight of the guards when Padalecki said, from behind him, "Don't tell me -- this your imitation of a lion stalking its prey."

Jensen tried not to wince at the edge to Padalecki's voice. "Ah, it's you," he said.

Padalecki quirked his lips upwards in not-quite-a-smile. "Only me. Were you hoping for a secret rendezvous with a princess in this dark, deserted hallway?"

Jensen shook his head before he remembered that would actually have been a decent cover story. And then tried not to think about the fact that he was currently alone with Padalecki in a dark, deserted hallway, which was a far more tantalizing prospect altogether.

"I'm, uh, exercising," he said.

To his surprise, Padalecki burst out laughing.

"C'mon," he said finally, grinning at Jensen. Jensen couldn't help smiling back a little wryly. "I know something I think you'll enjoy."

It turned out to be a horseshoe pit near the kitchen courtyard. No one was using it, and it was situated so the the bustle and noise of the kitchen was audible but the players were not in the way. Jensen suspected that most of the courtiers wouldn't bother coming to this part of the castle, even if they were interested in trading croquet mallets for horseshoes.

"You play?" Padalecki said.

"Not since I was a kid," Jensen admitted.

Padalecki grinned challengingly. "Well, then?"

Playing horseshoes did involve a lengthy period of standing, but it wasn't overly taxing on Jensen's leg. He was not surprised to find over the course of the afternoon that Padalecki was as irresistibly charming as initially suspected. He insisted Jensen refer to him as Jared and proceeded to use Jensen's given name with an easy familiarity that took Jensen by surprise. Jensen learned Jared was an affectionate brother to his younger sister, a well-read amateur scholar, and a lover of archery, puzzles, and boating. He also described in great detail his two dogs, his family's estate, and his championship horseshoe trophy.

On hearing the latter, Jensen grinned widely and accused him of being a big fat liar. Jared affected great offense and proceeded to demonstrate by beating Jensen handily, in a best of three. Jensen was grateful by then to retire to the coolness of the shadowed side of the courtyard. Jared offered him water from his flask and Jensen sipped carefully and handed it back. He watched as Jared lifted the flask against his pink lips and drank, his throat working to swallow. Jensen's face felt suddenly hot and sweaty and he had to glance away.

"You haven't told me much about you, y'know," Jared said, after a few moments of companionable silence.

Jensen shrugged awkwardly.

"Will you at least tell me what book held your attention so deeply this morning?" Jared said.

Jensen was surprised to realize Jared had noticed him, and he took the offered flask again to cover his embarrassment. Then he found himself telling Jared about the map-making book he'd been reading and his early-morning visit to the castle library and the slim volume of poetry he'd kept close to his heart throughout the war and the book his grandfather had written and the little bookshop he dreamed of opening one day. It felt somewhat like a torrent pouring out of him, his heart and mind and mouth suddenly full of words he was desperate to speak aloud to Jared.

Jared just listened attentively, a small smile on his lips. "You're not like the other hopefuls here," he said when Jensen's mouth finally ran out of words and ground to a halt.

Jensen had the sudden, horrible thought that Jared might have befriended him simply in order to size up his competition. For it was obvious that Jared, with his tall body and broad shoulders, with his clever eyes and infectious charm, would be a prime candidate for solving the mystery and lifting the curse and marrying the princess. Surely he would be favored by the king and the princesses to win the day.

The pit of Jensen's stomach suddenly felt like an ice-cold brick.

"You're not either," he said finally.

"Well, of course not," Jared said. "I'm unique." He flashed a grin to go with his words, but Jensen didn't quite manage to smile back.

~~~

The feast that night was quiet, as if everyone could feel the building tension as they approached the night of the full moon. There were even more people in attendance than the previous evening, however: fresh untried curse-breakers, neighbors arriving to see the show, courtiers hoping to catch the attention of a potential match. The princesses did not appear at the feast, and the king sat alone on his dais with his dogs sprawled beneath him.

Jensen fiddled with the stem of his full glass and let the worry and uncertainty and doubt gnaw at his stomach. The very idea that an old woman with a gift for prophecy would think that Jensen, a penniless veteran who had never set foot in a palace, could rescue a princess -- much less twelve princesses -- was ludicrous. It was absurd to think Jensen had even the slimmest of chances, help from a crone or not. Though many of the curse-breakers appeared to be silly, foppish idiots, there was also the young woman with the long braided hair who sat in silence and watched everything with sharp eyes. And the bearded man who didn't drink and who looked, to Jensen's careful eye, to be very competent with a sword. And there was Jared, of course.

After the first course, Jared slid into the seat next to him, and Jensen was so stupidly pleased he didn't even object that it meant Jared was obviously sitting far below his station.

"Will you go to the town tomorrow with everyone?" Jensen asked.

Jared glanced at him, and his eyes were bright with something that made Jensen's whole body feel sharp and flush and alive. "If you are," he said, and Jensen smiled at him with relief.

~~~

The princesses had arranged for the party to go into the town that day by carriage. Jensen waited on the edges of the crowd as the suitors and princesses battled their way through a complicated series of seating arrangements. Jared was quickly snatched up by the princess in the red and gold dress, and Jensen ignored the curl of disappointment in his belly at the way Jared's dimples flashed easily in the sunlight.

Jensen was eventually seated in a carriage with the aunt of the princess with short black hair, the tall, flame-haired princess' married sister, and a disgruntled suitor who had been ousted from the carriage of his choice. The aunt and sister talked with one another in low voices while the displaced suitor sulked in the corner and refused to speak, so Jensen sat back in his cushioned seat and watched the sights and sounds of the town as they passed.

The palace proper was situated on top of the hill by the lake, but the grey stone buildings sprawled down from the palace with little distinction between town and castle. The buildings in the town were tall and well-maintained, with colorful signs and canopies decorating storefronts and brightly painted doors and flowerpots indicating residences. The townspeople bustled around them, ignoring the string of carriages parading down the sunlit street. Jensen wondered if this was a spectacle that took place every month at the full moon when suitors and curse-breakers and avid visitors of all kinds descended in such droves on the palace and its surroundings.

The king's daughter, Princess Adelaide, was at the front of the procession, and Jensen was just able to make her out in her blue-green dress as she stood up in her carriage. She waved to the line of carriages behind her and they all came to a halt to allow everyone to disembark and explore the marketplace on foot.

Jensen had no money to spare, so he contented himself with sitting in a nearby square by the public fountain and taking in everything around him: chatter and laughter and shouting and bartering. It had been a long time since he had been in the midst of something so lively, something that pulled so tightly on the loose strings of his heart that meant home. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine that he had arrived in this town without magical guidance and without a quest. Maybe this was the kind of place where he would settle, quietly and comfortably. Perhaps he would find a job somewhere and slowly save enough money to open a poky little bookshop with high, overflowing shelves, and fat armchairs under the front windows, and a rug for the dogs in the corner. He would have a desk in the back room and maybe he would even write something of his own one day.

But the fact remained: he had arrived in this place with magical guidance and with a quest, and it was up to him to remember that tonight was the full moon and he was the one who could help save the princesses.

~~~

He didn't take a sip of the wine that was passed liberally among the guests that night, just as Madge had told him. The serving staff had urged two full glasses on him, and he'd had to surreptitiously drain them into his old friend, the potted ficus. So far, the ficus hadn't complained.

The moon was full and high in the sky, gleaming silver-bright through the high arched windows of the Great Hall, and the dancing was slowing. Jensen slipped out the side door and sat on a bench in the empty hallway.

He wasn't entirely sure he was in the right place and for a moment he worried that he'd miscalculated everything, but then there was a patter of feet and a chatter of voices and Jensen sat silently against the wall and waited while the twelve princesses passed him by. The princess in a sky-blue dress saw him, but she just smiled and threw him a wink. Then, in a flutter of perfume and rustle of skirts they were gone.

Jensen rose carefully to follow them. He was just tugging the invisibility cloak out of his uniform coat when a familiar voice said, "What exactly are you doing out here?"

It was the second time Jared had caught him skulking in corridors near the princesses' chambers. This time, he hadn't make a joke about which plant or animal Jensen might currently be imitating, and Jensen had to ignore the odd ache in his chest at the thought.

"Uh," he said intelligently.

"I said," Jared said, stepping toward Jensen. "What --"

"I know it sounds stupid," Jensen said abruptly, "but I know if I follow them tonight I can figure out how to break the curse.

Jared stopped and blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, right, I'm sure everyone says that. Everyone's here for the sole purpose of solving this whole 'what do the princesses do on full moon night' mystery. But it's not a game or a puzzle -- it's a curse and it's dangerous."

Jared regarded him skeptically. "How would you know?"

Jensen paused, then let out a breath and regarded him ruefully. "I don't suppose it would help to tell you an old woman in the Enchanted Forest told me about it?"

To his surprise, Jared let out a shocked guffaw. "Well, if Madge sent you," he said.

Jensen stared at him. "You -- you know Madge?"

"Of course I do," Jared said. "She's my mentor. Well, she was my mentor. Come on, then. We better have a drink and figure this whole thing out." He turned and stepped briskly down the hallway. "Oh, and I'm not, by the way," he added.

"What?"

"Here for the sole purpose of trying to solve the mysterious question of what the princesses do on full moon night."

"Oh," Jensen said.

~~~

Jared, it turned out, had apprenticed with Madge for a year before it had been mutually agreed upon by all parties that his skills did not lie in magic and prophecy. "Our front garden was never quite the same," Jared said cheerfully. "Neither was the dining hall, for that matter."

Jensen's life had been an arrow's straight flight from childhood to school to the army. Even now, on his strange and uncertain road through courtiers and curses and royal feasts, he couldn't imagine the curving and branching path Jared's life seemed to have taken.

Jared was looking at him with something like chagrin.

"Now you think I'm both incompetent and incapable of commitment, don't you?" he said.

"I think your life is very different from mine," Jensen said carefully.

Jared sighed. "Don't lie. Who would give up an education in the magic arts for -- for anything? You think I'm an entitled, arrogant ass."

Jensen also thought Jared was warm and generous and clever and beautiful, but he couldn't say that. He didn't say anything.

"Well, there's no need to slink around like a creeper," Jared said at last. "I know exactly where the princesses go on full moon nights."

Jensen stared at him. "What? What d'you mean?"

"This way," he said.

He stood up and took off down the dark, curving hallway. There was no way Jensen could keep up him, and just as he thought he'd lost sight of Jared and would quite possibly be lost in the twisty cavernous corridors of the castle until rodents discovered his moldering bones, Jared reappeared in front of him.

"Sorry," he said, looking apologetic. "We don't need to go so quickly. We've got lots of time."

"It's okay," Jensen said, trying not to let on how fast his breath was coming.

"Did you -- was it in the war?" Jared said uncomfortably, glancing at Jensen's leg.

"An unlucky strike," Jensen said shortly. "Or a lucky one, depending on your point of view."

"Right, yeah," Jared said.

He was silent for the next few minutes until he led them to a non-descript wooden door. Jensen was so turned around by the circuitous route they'd taken, he was almost positive he would never be able to find it again.

"All right, how do you possibly know about this?" Jensen demanded.

In the low light, Jared's eyes were dark. "Princess Emma is my sister," he said. "I'm here to look after her. I may have -- cheated a little to find out about all this. I was worried about her, you see, and, well, big brothers know some very embarrassing things."

Jensen stared at him. The princess in the red and gold was his sister. Jared wasn't here to try his hand at lifting the curse at all.

Jensen let that sink into his brain. Jared already knew about the curse. But then why hadn't he done anything to save the princesses -- to save his sister? Why would he --

"We could use that invisibility cloak of yours now," Jared said softly.

"How did you -- " Jensen said and stopped.

Jared shrugged casually, though there was a glint of a smile on his lips. "Madge appreciates the classics," he said.

Jensen pulled out the cloak. It took some maneuvering to fit the two of them under it and, in the end, Jared had to wrap his hands around Jensen's belt from behind and walk right on his heels. If anyone were looking they might be able to catch a glimpse of their feet under the cloak, but it seemed serviceable. Well, 'serviceable' was not really the word Jensen would consider appropriate to the situation. He could feel the heat from Jared's body pressed against him and Jared's breath was fanning soft and warm against his cheek. Jared's fingers curled around Jensen's belt, his fingertips slipping between the leather and Jensen's uniform, right against Jensen's belly.

Yeah, 'serviceable' was out the window. 'Torturous' and 'excruciating' were currently his top contenders.

Oh god, Jensen thought.

The space beyond wooden door was not, as Jensen had been imagining late at night, some kind of hideous dungeon lair. Instead, it was a beautiful garden, decadent with the smell of flowers and fruit. A winding path led through slender trees and leafy bushes and delicate flowers. The moon shone brightly in the sky overhead, illuminating the whole scene in a silvery glimmering glow and sending moon-shadows sloping across the dark green grass.

Jared directed Jensen with whispered commands ghosting across his ear and small nudges from his hands and thighs. Jensen focused his attention on how annoyed he was at having to be so docilely led, which kept him from drifting to thoughts of other, more inappropriate things. They found a rhythm to their shuffling gait; Jensen was surprised at how easy it felt for the two of them to fall into step.

They wound down through the foliage, and it didn't take long to arrive at a spot where they had a clear view down to the moonlit lake.

In the gazebo out on the lake, the twelve princesses danced. A quartet off to one side played music for them, the bright notes of the strings tripping daintily over one another, weaving the starlight and the lake-water and the lushness of the garden into the sounds. The princesses moved as lightly as the music, their feet quick on the floor, their bodies graceful. They twirled and spun, sometimes two together, sometimes three, often singly, and they were incandescent in the moonlight. Breathless laughter spilled out into the night, carrying across the water, the pure joy catching the notes of the music and spinning away together into the clear, dark sky.

"This is beautiful," Jensen whispered.

"Yes," Jared said.

"How --"

"Shh," Jared said, and his hands flexed on Jensen's hips, pushing him forward. Jensen stumbled a little as they stepped off the path, but he couldn't keep his eyes from the scene in front of him. They stopped at a little copse of trees, their purple-green leaves hanging over the boards of the dock that led out across the silver-tinted water to the gazebo. At this near distance, Jensen could see the smiles on the faces of the princesses.

"This isn't a curse," he said in wonder, and it wasn't a question.

"No," Jared said simply. And then: "May I have this dance?"

Jensen turned his head to blink up at him. "I don't dance," he said.

Jared just let go of him and stepped back, drawing the invisibility cloak off their heads and draping it around Jensen's shoulders like a coat. Jensen glanced instinctively towards the gazebo, but the princesses and their musicians didn't even turn in their direction.

Jared held Jensen's hand and tugged their bodies close together. Jensen had spent the last half hour with Jared plastered hot and hard against his back, yet it was still unnerving to be so close to him. Not to mention face to face and -- well, there was suddenly barely an inch between other, more unmentionable body parts, too. Instead of meeting Jared's eyes, he dropped his gaze to his own body, which was almost entirely hidden from view with the invisibility cloak.

"This is absurd. What if someone sees you dancing with a man's disembodied head?" he said, his mouth dry.

Jared smiled, and his dimples looked enchanting in the silver light. "Who could blame me," he said.

He stepped back and Jensen was so carefully attuned to reading the slightest movements of Jared's body that he followed automatically. Jared stepped again, his feet light and his smile broad, and Jensen followed him again, and then they were dancing.

The song lasted for an endless moment. Jensen felt his heart expand in his chest, stupendously, achingly bright, and he couldn't think beyond the crystal clarity of each single perfect note and couldn't feel anything except the exquisite pressure of Jared's warm hand in his.

When the song ended, another immediately took its place. The musicians and the dancers barely paused for breath. But Jensen stopped dead, his feet heavy and his leg throbbing dully.

"We -- we can't stay here," he said, his heart in his throat.

He was almost hoping to be contradicted, but the truth of it was burning bright in his heart: this was not a curse, but it was not theirs either. They had no right to stay and Jensen could already feel the ache in his heart at the loss.

Jared's gaze stayed on his for a moment, his eyes dark and deep in the shadows of the trees, and he looked sad, too. "No," he said, finally.

Jared's body pressed against Jensen's on the way back to the palace, their steps in perfect synchronicity. When they passed through the wooden door and Jared ducked out from under the coat, Jensen felt abruptly cold, and he shivered. Jared led him wordlessly back to his own room, and Jensen was pathetically grateful for the guide through the sprawling maze-like corridors.

His thoughts were still jumbled when they reached his chamber, wonder and hope and sorrow and regret struggling to drown each other in his chest.

"Good night," was all he managed.

"Sleep well," Jared said, and then he was gone.

~~~

Jensen didn't sleep that night. He sat by the small window in his chamber, wrapped in the blankets from his bed, and stared out at the darkness until the thin golden light of dawn slowly breached the horizon. The princesses weren't under a curse and nothing in the palace had been what Jensen had been led to expect. So why had Madge been waiting for him at the crossroads in the first place? Why had she sent him here with false information and false credentials and false hope?

(Though Jensen only had himself to blame for the stupid way his heart quickened in Jared's presence.)

He didn't realize he had been waiting for it until there was a soft knock on his door.

It was Princess Adelaide.

Jensen gawked at her. "You shouldn't be here," he said.

She raised her eyebrow and even though he knew better, he stepped back into his room, holding the door for her. She glided through.

"Jared tells me he took you with him into the garden tonight," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Um," Jensen said.

"I suppose you know what you're going to do with that information?" she went on.

Jensen met her eyes, cool and dark and assessing, and something in his brain clicked. "I thought it was a curse, when I came here," he said slowly.

Adelaide nodded.

"But it's all you, isn't it?"

She smiled. "Yes," she said. "It's nice to let the ladies have a night to themselves once in a while."

Jensen snorted. "You don't expect me to believe that's the only thing going on."

Her smile turned faintly rueful. "It's harder than you'd think to get any time for yourself in this place," she said, and that was probably very true.

Jensen watched the way she stood, her back straight, her eyes clear, her face impassive. She was very beautiful. And very clever.

He thought of the town's bustling marketplace, and the Great Hall crowded with courtiers and merchants and visitors. And the proud smile on Princess Adelaide's face as she stood up in her carriage to gesture at the thriving town.

"A terrible on-going curse with a princess for a prize must be a good way to increase tourism and encourage trade," he said.

Her eyes glittered. "Welcome benefits, no doubt," she said.

"Though even a fake curse is a dangerous scheme. People will do a lot for the chance at a princess and a kingdom."

"A monthly curse is bearable," the Princess said, her voice even. "As any woman will tell you."

Jensen nodded, his mind made up. "I won't tell anyone," he said.

The Princess didn't move. "In exchange for?"

He shook his head. "I don't want anything."

Adelaide tilted her head. "Not even a -- a prince's hand in marriage?" she said.

Jensen stared at her in complete shock, and then flushed and stared resolutely at the floor. "No," he said firmly. "I don't -- I want him to be --" He stopped. "Willing," he said finally.

Adelaide's smile this time was one of surprise and approval, and Jensen was suddenly sharply aware of the fact that she was the prize in the game all the curse-breakers were playing.

And yet somehow she was also the only one who knew all the rules.

"A monetary reward is usual in such circumstances," she said.

Jensen opened his mouth to protest, but then he thought of the reward that Madge had promised, for which, considering matters, he wasn't sure he qualified anymore. And he thought of the bright, cheerful town square and the warmth of the sun-baked stone fountain. And he thought of the way Jared's whole body shook when he laughed and the way he'd looked at Jensen when Jensen had told him about his bookshop.

"Perhaps I could be persuaded," he admitted, and he felt his lungs expand with all the hope brimming in his chest.

In the golden-pink gleam of the dawn, the Princess smiled.

~~~

Jared found Jensen outside the Great Hall later that morning. The expression on his face held a mixture of apology, regret, and stubbornness. He didn't hesitate as he came forward, but the eyes that rested on Jensen were uncertain.

"I told the Princess," he said, speaking so quickly he stumbled over the words. "Though she saw us, anyway. Well, me. She saw me dancing with a disembodied head."

Jensen grinned at that. "I'm not sure how you managed that."

"It was very difficult not to step on your invisible toes," Jared said, and there was relief in his voice.

"I'm sure," Jensen said, dryly.

"I contacted Madge," Jared said. Jensen noticed that the back of Jared's hand was stained a vivid green and he realized Jared must have put some of his year's worth of magic training to use. "I wanted to know why she sent you here to lift a curse when she must already know it's not a curse at all. If she'd just asked me -- Well, anyway. She just said all things are as they are." He sighed in frustration. "Very unhelpful. I mean, I should've predicted she'd say something like that, but, you know. I thought she might have some kind of -- insight or something, I don't know."

"Maybe she does, but just doesn't want to share it," Jensen said. Madge had sent him to the palace for the sake of twelve princesses, and Jensen seemed to have warped the tapestry of the tale a bit, but maybe she'd sent him there for Jared's sake, too. Maybe she hadn't even realized it at the time.

"I was thinking," Jensen said, "of going into town to see if there are any empty shops available for rent. Would you be interested in coming with me?"

"Yes," Jared said promptly.

It was still early and there was no one around, and maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Jensen couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch his finger gently to the dimple in Jared's cheek. He could feel the quickening of Jared's breath under the pad of his fingertip, and it made all the hair on his arms shiver to attention.

"You are staying, then?" Jared asked.

"Yes," Jensen said. And then, keeping his voice steady: "Are you?"

Jared smiled. "I am required to stay here as guardian for my sister until she decides to marry. And after that -- well, I can do as I like."

Jensen knew it was a classic opening, but he handed it over anyway: "And what do you like?"

Jared's smile widened like the slow breaking light of dawn and it suffused Jensen's whole body with warmth. "Well," Jared said, "I thought that was rather obvious."

His mouth was soft and warm and Jensen could feel Jared's smile against his own lips. He kissed back readily, curling his hand into Jared's hair, tangling the strands between his fingers, and savoring the gasp Jared made in his mouth. Jared's hand curved around his hip, a warm weight that was somehow already familiar yet still completely distracting. In fact, it distracted him so thoroughly that Jensen let his weight fall a little too heavily on his leg and stumbled off-balance, but Jared just picked up on the movement and used it to tug Jensen even closer against his body.

They kissed for a long time in the empty hallway and then Jensen took Jared's hand and they walked out together into the sunlight. It was a beautiful day.